


Huddling for Warmth: The Movie

by maychorian



Series: Voltron: Legendary Cuddlers [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: The paladins are heading back to the Castle of Lions after another successful mission when Shiro suddenly realizes that something is wrong. Lance isn't responding on the comms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I keep procrastinating from writing my fanfiction by writing OTHER fanfiction. Yeah, I was GONNA try to finish Keet and Yance before Season 2 came out, but I keep getting distracted. So anyway, this was inspired by [this amazing fanart.](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/155919189121/binart-drawing-in-voltron-style-is-really-fun) At first I just wrote a little ficlet, but of course I couldn't stop there.
> 
> Silly titles seem to be, like, my signature now. Yeah, I could have called it something poetic like "Shard of Ice" or something, but would that be as memorable as a stupid joke? Probably not.

Lance was not responding well on the comms.

“Lance?” Shiro asked, voice rising a bit. This was the third time he had said Lance’s name with no immediate response, and fear was starting to build up in his chest. “I need to hear your voice, buddy. Lance, can you hear me?”

“…Yeah…”

Too soft, too distant. Shiro sat forward in his seat. He could feel Black surrounding him, thrumming in mutual concern. The chatter of the others on the comms, celebrating the completed mission, talking about what to do when they got back to the castle, abruptly halted. “Lance, what’s going on?” Shiro’s voice was urgent now.

“’Mokay,” Lance said. He still didn’t sound like himself. “’M…cold…”

“Cold?” Hunk’s voice, rising in anxiety.

“Hunk, quiet,” Shiro snapped, not angrily, just quickly. Hunk shut up, and Shiro turned his attention back to Lance. He was trying to pull up a visual on his screen, but nothing was happening. “Lance, why are you cold?”

“Dunno… I…”

“Did something hit you?” Keith asked, fire sharp. “When we got separated on the Galra ship. You said you handled it fine, but what happened?”

“There was a…a druid… Hit me with some kind of…’tricity…”

“Electricity?” And now Shiro really was starting to panic. “A druid hit you with a magic attack?” Finally, he got up a visual feed from Blue. Lance was slumping in his seat, face wan, eyes drooping. He looked awful. And yes, he was shivering.

“Lance, hold on,” Shiro ordered. “We’ll be back at the castle soon, okay? We’ll check you out. We’ll have Coran standing by.” Pidge was on the comms already, communicating with Allura and Coran. He knew they would be waiting in the hangar for them to come in. 

“…Okay…” Lance’s eyes fell shut, chest heaving for breath.

“Lance!” Shiro shot forward in his seat, reaching out to touch the screen as if he could physically grab Lance through the distance. “Open your eyes!”

The furious shout seemed to have an effect. Lance opened his eyes again, though he couldn’t get them more than halfway up.

“Stay awake, Lance,” Shiro said, half-yelling. Lance looked distantly worried, afraid that Shiro was angry at him, and Shiro tried to back off the urgency in his voice. “Just stay awake, kiddo, okay? Don’t close your eyes. We’ll be back soon. Just keep ‘em open.”

“Okay.” Barely a breath. Lance’s chest was heaving, and his face looked even more pale. But he was fighting. Fighting with all he had. “I…I’m cold, Shiro…”

“I know, buddy.” Shiro tried for reassuring, hoped he was hitting it. Lance stared at him through the screen, unblinking, so maybe it was working. “I know you’re cold. We’ll get back to the castle and warm you up, okay? Everything will be fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

“…Yeah…”

They flew. The castle had never seemed so far away.

Shiro kept talking to Lance the whole way, watching him closely through the screen. Lance tried, quiznak knew he always tried, but he was barely coherent by the time they arrived. His energy seemed to be dropping drastically with every second that passed. Toward the end, Shiro resorted to yelling at him again, determined to keep Lance's eyes open through his will alone, if he had to, though guilt pierced his heart at the frightened, overwhelmed look on Lance's face as he was berated for reasons he didn't have the wherewithal to understand.

When they got past this, when Lance was okay, Shiro might have some patch-up work to do. But it would be worth it, as long as they got through this. He couldn't escape the loose, panicky feeling in his gut that if Lance closed his eyes, they might not open again.

"Lance!" He was screaming it now, spittle flying from his mouth. "Open your eyes. _Open your eyes!"_

But Lance was failing. He'd been failing for several minutes, while Blue sped toward the castle, while everyone else followed in her wake. Lance fought to force his eyelids open, just a tiny bit more, but they were falling, and he was falling, too, sliding down in his seat until he almost wasn't visible on the feed anymore. "Sorry...boss..." His voice was faint and failing, too, and Shiro hated it, he _hated_ it. "Gonna have to...tap out now..."

"Don't you dare," Shiro spat, so desperate and raging that he could barely speak. "Lance, are you listening? Don't you _dare."_

But Lance couldn't hear him now, eyes shut, body limp, face washed out in the harsh light of Blue's distress. Hunk was sobbing on the line, and Shiro couldn't even hear Keith and Pidge, if they were speaking at all. His heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest.

They were here. In the castle hangar. They'd made it. Shiro tore his helmet off and pelted out of the black lion, but before he'd gotten to Blue, Allura and Coran were already there. They carried Lance down the ramp between them, slack and deadweight in their arms. Barely got to the bottom of the ramp before they sank to the floor, Coran cradling Lance back to chest, his arms wrapped loosely around Lance's waist. Allura knelt beside them and hovered her hands beside Lance's head, palms a few inches from his ears.

In an instant Shiro was there, sliding to his knees on Lance's other side. He heard the other paladins scrambling up behind, too, but he had eyes only for Allura. Her eyes were shut, and the space between her palms and Lance's ears shed a faint luminescence. Of course, Shiro thought hysterically, of course, of course. Cryo pods couldn't help with this. Magical first aid for a magical attack.

"Is he..." Shiro started, and was unable to say more. Hunk's hands landed on his shoulders, heavy and hard.

"He's alive," Coran said cheerfully, though there was a hint of strain in his voice. "Might even be conscious. Hard to tell at the moment." He lifted a hand and patted Lance's cheek, craning over to peer into his face. "Is that right? Can you hear us, my boy?"

Shiro heard very little after "he's alive." He closed his eyes and slumped in relief, head bending backward to aim his face at the ceiling. "All right. All right. I don't know why I thought..."

"You have good instincts," Allura said grimly. "Something is very, very wrong."

Shiro straightened, and everyone's attention focused on her, laser sharp. "What is it?" His voice was too harsh, too disrespectful, but Shiro couldn't bring himself to care.

Allura's eyes slid open, and she looked into Lance's face with her mouth pressed in a thin line. "I'm not entirely certain how this was accomplished, but I believe the druid implanted a shard of fourth-dimensional ice. Its tendrils of influence are wrapped around his heart, and they're beginning to squeeze."

As if responding to her voice, Lance finally opened his eyes, just a sliver. He stared into Allura's face, his expression blank and uncomprehending, then closed his eyes again. It occurred to Shiro that he couldn't see him shivering.

He reached out, almost on instinct, and grabbed Lance's arm with both hands. No good. With both of them wearing armor like this, he couldn't feel Lance's skin, couldn't get a sense of his temperature and how he was doing. Shiro started to strip out of his armor, not even thinking about what he was doing. His eyes barely wavered from Lance's face.

Allura's eyes flicked sideways to him, and she nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea. We need to warm him as quickly as possible. At least as much as we can. The shard is burrowing deeper." Shiro's mind couldn't quite grasp what that meant, but it sounded bad. Very, very bad. Hunk gasped, Pidge cursed, and Keith started to pace.

Allura's hands moved away from Lance's head. "Coran?" He was already moving, sitting Lance up in his arms to start stripping the armor off him, as well. Instantly, Hunk was there helping, big hands holding Lance's body upright as they worked. Lance's head drooped down to his chest, his body limp and heavy in their hands. Shiro stood up to take off his boots, and Keith moved next to him. Keith caught his arm and side when he almost stumbled in his reckless haste. Pidge had vanished somewhere, and Shiro didn't have the mental space to even wonder where she'd gone.

Shiro was down to his white coverall, the clothing that offered a thin friction barrier between the thick, rubbery material of the under-armor and their skin while they were in full fight mode. He sat on the floor with a thump, legs straight out from his body, and held his hands out for Lance. He waved impatiently when the others didn't respond as quickly as he wanted them to. Hunk huffed out a breath, almost like laughter, as he and Coran finished tugging Lance's under-armor off his foot. Then they passed him over to Shiro, and he pulled Lance into his lap and wrapped himself around him as hard and as tight as he could, chest to chest, Lance's legs sprawled over Shiro's left thigh, arms folded between his stomach and Shiro's.

Quiznak, the kid was cold. His body was long and lanky and awkward to handle, and his temperature was far, far too low. It was like trying to cuddle an adolescent-shaped popsicle. His face fell under Shiro's chin, and Shiro could feel the sharp ridges of his features against his chest through the coverall. Cold nose, cold lips, cold forehead, cold everything.

And Lance wasn't shivering, not even a tiny bit. Shiro knew that was a bad sign. A bad, bad sign. He rubbed his hands up and down Lance's back, trying to force some warmth into his body through sheer force of effort. He could feel the labored, stuttering press of Lance's chest against his as he breathed, and it scared the living daylights out of him. 

Shiro's face was ducked down against Lance's chilly hair, but he heard Hunk and Keith moving, too, shedding their armor with Coran and Allura's help. Then Hunk sat down heavily beside Shiro and wrapped himself around them both as far as he could go, face pressed to the side of Lance's head, one arm around Shiro's back and the other impeding his ability to run his hands up and down Lance's spine. Keith sat on the other side and pulled Lance's legs into his lap, folding them against his chest and wrapping his arm around to bundle them in. Keith's head leaned on Shiro's shoulder, just because.

Hunk hummed, and Shiro could feel it vibrating through the entire pile of their curled up, clutching forms. "This would probably be easier in a bed somewhere, you know, where we could lie down and just make Lance into a sandwich."

"There's no time," Allura said curtly. Her hand was there, too, fingers combing through the patch of Lance's hair that wasn't currently covered by Hunk or Shiro. "We can't risk moving to a more convenient location. If the shard reaches his heart, it will kill him. Keeping the rest of his body as warm as possible will slow its movement and force it to disperse its power to fight back against us. If we keep this up, he has a chance."

Shiro shuddered and held Lance a little tighter, felt Hunk and Keith doing the same. A chance, she said. Not a cure. Just a chance.

Pidge was back, her arms full of blankets. "Found the heated ones," she rapped out, breathless from her run through the ship. Coran made a pleased noise and grabbed two off the top of the stack. He and Allura started wrapping them around the pile of huddled paladins while Pidge stripped out of her own armor. Right before they finished, she slipped in and straddled Shiro's legs, front pressed to Lance's back. Now Shiro couldn't move his hands at all. Pidge snaked her own arms in there, somehow, and wrapped them both around Lance's lower chest. It was a wonder he could breathe, with all of them clutching him like this.

Coran put the last blanket around Pidge, tucking them all into a mound that probably looked like a misshapen pastry from the outside. If Lance wasn't still far, far too cold, it would get over-heated in here really fast. As it was, though, Shiro had to fight down a shiver. Instead of their warmth seeping into Lance, it seemed like they were all getting as cold as he was, instead. 

Was this the power of the druid's attack? Could it destroy them all, just with one simple hit? Lance must have brushed it off, since he hadn’t even mentioned it when they all got back to the lions. None of them had realized Lance was in trouble until he started having difficulty responding on the comms, and that had been, what, already halfway out from the mission? They had thought it was over, they had all been celebrating, not a care in the universe...

And now this. Lance was dying. Shiro didn't want to let himself realize it, but with that grim look on Allura's face, the tender way she kept stroking her fingers through Lance's hair, he was forced to acknowledge the truth. He could _die_ right here, cradled in all of their arms, and Shiro didn't know how any of them would ever get over it. Ever.

Shiro turned his head so he could speak. He was not surprised at all to hear a raspy breathiness in his voice, either. "Allura. How?"

Somehow, she understood what he was asking. She looked into his face and nodded. "Keep fighting. Keep warming him. Coran and I will draw out the shard by offering a path of least resistance."

This did not make sense. But Shiro glanced around and realized that Coran had vanished, not unlike Pidge had earlier. He presumed that he was fetching something, some sort of Altean technology that would save them all. Shiro nodded and pressed the side of his face into the mess of Lance's hair again.

There was a deep, suffering, mechanical groan. Something massive and powerful shifted around them. Shiro's eye popped open in alarm, and he looked to the side to see Blue's paw moving closer. A look to the other side, and that paw was coming in too. A great metal wall bumped his back. Blue had curled her paws and head around them, trying to offer her support as well.

Shiro closed his eyes and held Lance a little tighter. He tried to pray, but he couldn't remember the words. He also wasn't sure if he believed, if he had ever believed, or if anything like that had been burnt out of him by his year of slavery. If he believed in anything, now, he supposed it might be these people who huddled with him, surrounding him and the young man in his arms.

Lance was cold. His breath stuttered against Shiro's chest, small puffs of cool air ghosting over the hollow of Shiro's throat. Slowly, the rest of them were getting chilled, too. The heated blankets around them fought to combat that, but their warmth was beginning to feel uncomfortable instead of helpful. It was like sitting close to a too-hot bonfire on a too-cold night, one side roasting and one side freezing. Shiro was beginning to feel trapped, too, by the unusual proximity of everyone. Lance might enjoy it, if he was actually aware of what was happening to him. It was too bad he was so out of it, or he would surely gloat over this “bonding moment” for days if not weeks or months. But Shiro had never been much of a cuddler, and now all of the touching and closeness was starting to get overwhelming. It was probably worse for Keith.

But he said nothing. None of them did. They were all holding on, breathing in sync. Fighting, in their way, as Allura had told them to do.

A shift in the atmosphere, footsteps running over the hangar floor, Coran's huffed pants as he arrived at their side and bent over with a rustle. "I brought it." Shiro didn't bother to look up, his face still pressed against Lance's hair, but he felt Allura's hand withdraw.

"I'll take it." Her voice was cool, competent and assured. If Shiro believed anything, he believed that she could save them.

"You must take great care," Coran said gravely. "Shapeshifting your body like that..."

"I am aware. Thank you for your concern." Dismissed, just like that. Coran harrumphed, but didn't argue with her.

Shiro opened one eye and watched. Allura was holding a small canister in one hand. It looked like the containers that had held the quintessence back at the universal hub, but this one was opaque and had what looked like a temperature gauge on the side. Allura adjusted a level, and Shiro swore he saw frost begin to form on the edges of the container.

He was beginning to understand.

Allura looked into Shiro's face and gave him a confident smile. If she was worried, it didn't show. She reached out for the mound of paladins again, but instead of stopping at Lance’s head, this time her hand moved within their tightly pressed bounds. It insinuated itself between Shiro's breast and Lance's. Her slender fingers splayed over Lance's heart.

And Shiro felt them go cold. Allura was regulating her body temperature, forcing herself to dip far below the normal bounds of Altean body heat. He could see a line of pale blue flesh snaking up her arm to disappear in her sleeve, across her neck, and down the other arm to her opposite hand, where she held the frozen canister suspended in the air. She wasn’t changing the color of her skin, either, at least not that he could tell. This was not a cosmetic change. She was altering the physical properties of her own body.

She was providing a path of least resistance. For the shard of ice. To travel through her body and be trapped.

Shiro's eye widened, and he stared at her without blinking. This was far, far too dangerous. Surely she knew that? Allura only smiled.

"Warm him," she said urgently. "Hold him close and tight."

Shiro could only obey. The others did too, squeezing in as hard as they could. Shiro felt the icy touch of Allura's hand between him and Lance, like an ice cube that wouldn’t melt. It seemed colder than Lance's body, so maybe, just maybe... Was it working?

Allura’s breath hitched, and Shiro squeezed his eyes shut and pressed harder into Lance. He didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to know… Suddenly, her hand seemed to become even colder, a coldness that pierced and drilled against Shiro’s chest, that burned and destroyed and broke into pieces. It _hurt,_ and he fought down a yell of pain. Was this the thing that had been freezing a path through Lance’s body for this entire time? How was he not dead already? 

The pattern of Allura’s breath changed. Her hand warmed, and Shiro knew she was doing it herself. The unbearable spot of coldness moved into her wrist, chased out as she shifted her body heat, then into her forearm, and up, into the part of her arm that was not pressed against Shiro anymore. Now he couldn’t feel it, and he dared to open his eye again.

The warm brown of Allura’s normal skin tone had returned to the flesh that had been blue on her arm. He couldn’t see anything now, but presumably the shard was traveling under clothes where he couldn’t see it. Shiro watched the tone of her skin return on her neck, slowly pushing back the blue, then down her other arm as well. It was like watching time-lapse photography of a flush of spring green running over the ground after a winter thaw. 

Then finally, her opposite hand. Allura pulled away from Shiro and Lance’s chest and held the canister with that hand, holding the other, still blue, above the opening. At the tip of her index finger, blood began to well, dripping into the canister. She pushed her hand into the canister, and something happened where Shiro couldn’t see. A discharge almost like electricity, a flash of extra-dimensional power, perhaps. Allura released a harsh gasp, then pulled back her hand as sharply as she could, as if she was trying to evade a trap that had just been sprung.

Coran was waiting. He seized the canister with both hands, now protected with huge, heavy gloves, the kind of protection someone would wear for dealing with incredibly hot or hazardous materials back on Earth. He slammed the lid of the canister down and twisted it shut, mouth tight as if he was holding his breath.

Both Alteans went still, just staring at the thing in Coran’s hands for a moment. The gauge on the side dropped so quickly that it seemed to be a trick of the light, and frost grew over the entire exterior in an instant. It even grew up the fingers of Coran’s gloves, tracing powdery white fractal patterns, but it stopped after a few inches.

And then… No more. That canister was quiescent. They had defeated the druid’s weapon, this gambit of destruction and death. Allura and Coran held their breath for a moment longer, then grinned at each other, sudden and relieved.

“I...I believe I’ll go dispose of this, now,” Coran said.

Allura nodded. “Thank you.”

Before he went, Coran gave Shiro a smile. “Feeling better? I believe Lance’s respiration should be improving now.”

Shiro blinked, then focused inward to the boy huddled against his chest again. Lance was still horribly chilled, fighteningly still in their arms, but yes. His breathing did seem easier, longer and more relaxed. Shiro nodded to Coran, who grinned, then left, holding the canister in front of him at the full length of his arms.

Allura settled down beside the mound of paladins and reached out to stroke her fingers through Lance’s hair once more. Shiro did not miss the sudden weariness in her face, the loose-limbed slump of her shoulders. She had been far more afraid than she had let on, and once again, Shiro could only admire her strength.

He closed his eyes and focused on Lance. The threat was defeated. Everything was going to be okay. Now, they just needed to focus on warming Lance up, for real this time. He was still far too cold, but now at least he no longer seemed to be sucking in all the energy and warmth of the bodies surrounding him like a Lance-shaped black hole. He was getting warmer, slowly but surely.

"That's it, buddy," Hunk murmured, face still pressed against Lance's head, right beside Shiro's. "Everything's okay now. You're gonna be fine."

Pidge squeezed tighter, wiry arms pressing against Shiro as if she was trying to force him out of the way and take Lance all for herself. Shiro huffed out a breath and held Lance tighter, too, resisting her claim. Keith's head leaned more heavily on Shiro's shoulder, and Shiro wondered if he was falling asleep. He knew Keith had been overtraining the last few nights, and he'd been meaning to talk to him about slowing down. Maybe the heat inside this ramshackle enclosure, gradually evening out now, was relaxing him despite his usual aversion to such closeness.

Eventually, Lance began to shiver, hard. It was a good sign, but it was also uncomfortable and unpleasant. He rattled in their arms, teeth chattering ceaselessly as pitiful whimpers began to force their way out of him. His hands moved and twisted, then clenched in Shiro's shirt as he curled into him. He groaned, then sobbed as his body woke up, helpless to resist his body's reactions. The numbness had been dangerous, life-threatening, but it had also been _numb._ Lance had been dying, but all he'd felt was cold and tired. Now, he was in agonizing pain, and it was difficult to listen to, difficult to be close to.

But they all held him closer anyway, rubbing his back and massaging his limbs as life crept back into his body, murmuring reassurances whenever it seemed like he could hear them. Lance cried into Shiro's chest, then went limp, exhausted, as his body returned to a normal temperature range. He was still a little chilled, his skin cool against theirs, and he was clearly unhappy with his situation. But it was no longer dangerous, just clammy and uncomfortable. The blankets were starting to feel too hot again.

"Okay." Shiro dared to uncurl a little from his tight coil around Lance, raising his head and looking around. Allura was still kneeling nearby, and Coran had come back, too, this time with a hover stretcher in case it was necessary. Shiro blinked at them, and he felt all four of his fellow paladins leaning into him, just as exhausted as he was.

"I think..." Shiro said slowly, his mouth dry. He blinked his gummy eyes at Allura and attempted a smile. "I think now would probably be a good time to move to a more convenient location."

She smiled, too, then gave him a gentle nod. Shiro shifted, and Lance's exhausted, trembling fingers tightened in his shirt.

"Whoa, no," Shiro said right away, curling his arms around Lance's back again. "I didn't mean I was gonna let go, kiddo. We're just gonna move. There's a lounge nearby. We'll make a pillow pit in the sunken couches and just relax, okay? I'm not gonna let go of you."

Lance hesitated, then nodded into his neck and let out a shaky sigh. He might not have understood what just happened to him, but he knew he was tired and in pain, and having Shiro and everyone else close to him was making him feel better. Pidge squeezed his chest, Hunk patted his back, and Keith knocked his fist against his knee.

The others gradually disentangled themselves from the knot they'd all turned into. Hunk and Pidge started gathering up the blankets that fell from their shoulders, while Keith just there on the floor for a moment, blinking as his eyes refocused. Shiro shifted Lance in his arms, then gradually climbed to his feet, carrying him princess-style. Lance curled up into his chest and sniffled, limp and worn out. 

They shuffled to the nearest lounge and found that Coran and Allura, and the mice apparently, had already run ahead and started gathering pillows and blankets, as Shiro had suggested. Pidge and Hunk threw the heated blankets down into the already existing pile inside the sunken couches, and the five of them slowly sank into the swamp of bedding that had been gathered. Shiro lowered himself to his knees, then his side, taking Lance with him. 

Lance let himself be laid out, but still refused to let go of Shiro's shirt. Once they were both down again, lying more comfortably with their bodies stretched out, Lance wiggled closer and hid his face in the damp patch on Shiro's shoulder where he had already shed a bunch of tears.

Shiro sighed and curled his hand around so he could ruffle his hair. He had an inkling about why Lance was being so clingy right now, which was unusual even for him. The others were settling down around them, Hunk on Lance's other side ready at any moment to make him into a sandwich, as he had wanted to do earlier. Pidge threw a blanket at them, not one of the heated ones, but a fresh, light one from a closet somewhere. Hunk spread it over them, and Shiro ducked his head closer to Lance in an attempt to make this just a little bit private.

"Lance. Buddy," he said softly. "I'm not mad at you. I never was."

Lance rubbed his nose into Shiro's shirt, making no attempt to look at him. "You yelled," he muttered. "I figured it was my fault."

"No." Shiro pressed his hand harder into Lance's hair. "I was scared. I was terrified that I was losing you. That's why I yelled. I wasn't angry at you for getting hit by a druid attack, quiznak, Lance, what kind of leader would I be if I got mad at you for being _attacked?_ You didn't do anything wrong. You were injured and were about to pass out, and I was trying to keep you awake. I'm sorry I scared you."

"You yelled," Lance whispered, a touch of childish petulance there. Mostly, though, it was just exhaustion and confusion. He didn't have the mental capacity right now to process the emotional and physical gauntlet he'd been through today. Tomorrow, he would understand better, and would probably be embarrassed that he'd even worried about it.

For now, though, Shiro curled his arm around him and pulled him in tight. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Sorry for scaring you, but not sorry I yelled. I yelled because I care about you. I know you're too tired right now to put the pieces together, but it will make sense later."

Lance sighed, exhausted and peeved. "You sound like my dad. 'You'll understand when you're older.' Yeah, well I'm older _now,_ and I still don't get it. I don't think I ever will."

Shiro chuckled. "Sure you will. You'll understand. For now, just rest, okay? We're safe here together. You went through something awful and grueling today, but it's over, and everyone is here with you. You can sleep. It'll be okay."

"Want a shower," Lance mumbled into Shiro's shoulder. "Everyone's all sweaty and stinky."

Shiro snorted. Yeah, that blanket-ball had basically turned into a sauna toward the end. "You'll appreciate why later. I know you're too tired to shower now, no matter how bad you want to. Just go to sleep."

"Fine." Lance yawned, then settled down, his head still pressed against Shiro's shoulder. "You're the boss, bossman."

"Yeah." Shiro stroked his fingers through Lance's hair and stared up at the ceiling. He heard Hunk's quiet breaths, Keith on his other side, Pidge curled up at their feet like a cat. Allura and Coran were nearby, turning down the lights, fetching more blankets. Hopefully they would join them on the couches later, and everyone would nap where Shiro could keep an eye on them.

For as long as Lance needed him to, he would be the bossman. Even if that meant yelling and frightening him, pushing him beyond his limits when he didn't understand why. Shiro would do a lot more than that to keep his teammates safe.

He had reconciled himself to that fact long ago.

But for now, they could rest. Lance curled up into his side, and he slept. Shiro's eyes drifted shut, and he slept, too.


End file.
